


Afternoons With Crowley

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Love Triangle, Love at First Sight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail "Bela" Hall is the ward of the powerful Lord Crowley, who wants the best deal for Bela's hand. Bela wants to find her own love on her own terms. When she's slated to marry a man she does not find fitting at all, she takes matters into her own hands. (Victorian AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            “Who is that?” Abigail asked her maid, Joanna. Abigail did not believe the girl would have any more information than she did, but Joanna was the only one she knew she could trust not to tell her uncle, Mr. Crowley, that she was in the business of finding a match for herself. Abigail was pointing to a man who carried himself well, and looked as if he would be handsome under the mask he was wearing, black and crafted to look like angels’ wings. She had never seen him at her uncle’s parties before, and immediately he captivated her.

            “That is Mr. Balthazar Talbot, my lady.” Joanna responded, fixing a piece of Abigail’s hair. “He is a duke, raised in France. But, he is not on the list of eligible men for you to marry. Mr. Crowley would not approve of you courting him.” A smile curled on Abigail’s lips, and she nodded politely.

            “I wouldn’t imagine disobeying my dearest uncle.” She said while picking up her mask from the table. “But surely he couldn’t fault me for just one dance with Mr. Talbot.” The look on Joanna’s face was one Abigail had seen many times before when the girl had disagreed with one of her Lady’s ideas, but after so many looks, Abigail could no longer be bothered by them. She fixed her hair one last time, then floated down the stairs onto the dance floor.

            The first young man she danced with was on Mr. Crowley’s list of appropriate suitors, but she seemed as uninterested in him as she was in peeling potatoes. He was handsome, but incredibly tall and seemed to harbor too many feelings for someone who had barely ever spoken a word to her. Abigail switched partners quickly, but drew similar conclusions about her next few matches. No one at the party was suitable for her in her own eyes, and she was beginning to loathe her uncle’s judgment. The dance was coming to a close, and Abigail bowed at her partner, keeping the mask pressed to her face. When the next song began, she was swept away by someone whom she did not observe until he spun her around. He was still wearing his mask, even though most every guest’s arm had tired, but Abigail could see the smile on his lips had made its way to his eyes.

            “You haven’t been without your mask since I first laid eyes on you. Are you hiding from someone? What use does a lady as poised as yourself have for a disguise?” Mr. Talbot asked as they swung around in the dance. Abigail’s heart fluttered at the man’s smooth voice and seemingly effortless charm.

            “I am not hiding from someone, but everyone.” Abigail replied. “If my uncle knew I were dancing with someone not on his list, he’d throw a fit.” Mr. Talbot smiled and swung her around again, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

            “But surely my good name could find its way on this list? Who is your uncle?” He looked at her expectantly, and she thanked Heaven for her mask covering the blush erupting on her cheeks.

            “My uncle is Lord Anthony Crowley. I am his ward.” Abigail explained. “I am Abigail Hall, but those close to me call me Bela. I would like it very much if _you_ were to call me Bela. Abigail is a name that I thoroughly detest!” Bela protested before peering around to see if her uncle was nearby. “I would take that matter up with him, if you believe us to be a good match, that is.”

            “I’m sure I would have no trouble finding a space for my name on that list. I am Balthazar Talbot. You may call me whatever you deem fitting, Bela.” He lifted her hand to his lips and lightly kissed it, his mask never leaving his face. Bela smiled, but soon caught sight of her uncle coming down the stairs.

            “I’m sorry! I must depart! Until next time, dear Balthazar.” She quickly kissed his cheek and removed her mask before returning to her uncle’s side. He was standing with a handsome man with a rose buttonhole, someone that she had never seen before.

            “Bela!” Mr. Crowley greeted, waving over the girl. “Mr. Winchester, this is my ward, Lady Abigail Hall. Abigail,” He continued, switching to her proper name, “this is your fiancé, Mr. Dean Winchester.” Bela’s heart sank and her face fell, but she couldn’t let herself seem rude. She didn’t question her uncle’s matchmaking in public, and allowed Mr. Winchester to dance with her, even if he seemed about as interested in her as someone would be interested in contracting typhus. He didn’t say much as they danced, and when they sat down to dinner, Bela acted very distracted, looking around for Mr. Talbot. She was so flustered and angry with her uncle that she could barely eat, let alone pay attention to the conversation.

            “Abigail!” Mr. Crowley snapped, peering over his champagne glass with a glare. He wasn’t using her nickname, which both annoyed and pleased her, as she didn’t want Mr. Winchester getting ideas and calling her a name that she reserved for people that she didn’t detest, and people she wasn’t being forced to marry. She wanted to find love, not money, for she already had enough to satisfy her for many years to come, no matter what husband she chose. “Abigail, are you listening to Mr. Winchester?”

            Truthfully, she hadn’t been. She had been daydreaming about Mr. Talbot and his blue eyes and his charm and the gorgeous French flair to his voice, but she couldn’t let her uncle be aware of her affection towards someone other than her intended. “Yes, uncle. Mr. Winchester, I think the hunt is dreadfully vile. If you excuse me, I must be off to… powder my nose.” Bela bowed slightly and walked off up the stairs, trying to head back to her bedroom to brood. She didn’t want Dean Winchester as her husband, not at all. On her journey, she passed by Joanna again, seemingly delighted by the announcement of Bela’s engagement, and stopped to talk to her.

            “Oh, congratulations, Lady Hall. You and Mr. Winchester will make a fine match. Mr. Crowley says that the two of you will be married in May. May is a lovely month, Lady Hall.” Bela’s face fell at Joanna’s words, and she backed towards the wall to rest her head on it. Maybe her corset was tied too tightly, but she was feeling out of break and awful.

            “I fear I cannot acquiesce your congratulations, Miss Harvelle, for Mr. Winchester and I will not be married if I am to have my say.” Bela hissed before stomping off down the hallway with tears in her eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to find someone that she would love. She was about to enter her bedroom when she bumped into someone. He was warm and hard and he fixed her hair before lightly tilting her chin up to look at him. Even without the mask on, she could tell it was Mr. Talbot, and he was even more handsome than she imagined.

            “Don’t cry, Bela. Who would even dream that it would be acceptable to make a woman as beautiful as you cry?” Mr. Talbot said, gently wiping a tear from her face. She looked up at him and blushed, wooed again by his charm.

            “Mr. Talbot, would you be so kind as to accompany me on a walk?” Bela asked, pulling away slightly. Mr. Talbot nodded and held out his arm for her to link hers in, which she accepted gratefully. She lead him down the back exit, where she knew that her uncle wouldn’t see them, and made it out to the garden that was gently lit with candles. “Mr. Talb—Balthazar,” Bela began, “I know this is quite sudden, and I do not know you very well, but it’s not someone who is causing my unhappiness, but rather an idea.” She sat down on a stone bench and patted next to her for Balthazar to sit down, which he did promptly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “My uncle wants me to marry Mr. Winchester, but I do not love him, _Balthazar._ ” Mr. Talbot’s face fell and he looked away from her, biting his lip.

            “Lady Hall, _Bela_ , I am deeply sorry to hear that.” Balthazar seemed genuinely upset, but Bela wondered if she was only attracted to him because her uncle would not approve, even with Mr. Talbot’s good name. “I personally know Mr. Winchester, and I believe you deserve better than him.” Bela’s heart sank again, and she looked down at her hands. Slowly, her eyes drifted back up to his and her breathing hitched. She felt as if she were going to faint.

            “Balthazar… I don’t have to marry him. Not if I run away.” The two locked eyes, and before either could stop to regain their senses, they kissed, soft and sweet and forbidden. Bela threaded her fingers through his hair, and he pulled her close, slipping his tongue lightly into her mouth.

            “Abigail Anne Hall!” Mr. Crowley shouted as he stormed down the path to the garden. “Just _what_ do you think you are doing?”


	2. Chapter 2

            “What do I think I’m doing?” Bela asked, her voice angry and raised. “Uncle, I believe I am making my own choices. Does that bother you? Does me speaking my mind cause you distress?” Bela stood up and glared, holding Mr. Talbot’s hand behind her while her uncle stared her down.

            “Yes, Abigail. Your behavior displeases me!” Mr. Crowley replied to his defiant ward. His face was crinkled in disgust, not for Mr. Talbot’s lineage, but for Bela’s blatant disregard for his wishes. She was twenty-four years old, and he believed that she should not be acting like a whimsical child.

            “Good. That was my intention, uncle! Mr. Winchester is quite boring and positively vile. I would not marry him if we were the last two people on this Earth!” Bela sat back down and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, glaring at her uncle. Balthazar sat there quietly, trying to assess the situation, but every time he opened his mouth, one of the other two would begin shouting.

            “Abigail, you are acting like a child! Therefore, I will treat you as I would treat a child. Mr. Winchester is neither boring, nor vile. You will be married on the first of Mary, whether you approve of him or not.” Bela dropped Mr. Talbot’s hand and began running through the garden until she hit the pond on the edge of the property. She kicked off her shoes and held up the bottom of her dress as she waded into the water, even if it was still too chilly to swim. She wasn’t going in deeper than her ankles, but an arm reached out to grab her.

            “Uncle, I _hate_ you!” Bela exclaimed before pulling away and turning around. The man who had grabbed her was not Mr. Crowley, but Mr. Winchester, her intended. She shot him an unladylike glare and stomped off again, leaving wet footprints on the brick path.

            “Wait! Abigail!” He called, chasing after her. Bela turned around abruptly, still shooting him an icy look. She could hear her uncle and Mr. Talbot fighting in the distance, but she didn’t run off towards them. “I wanted to speak with you! Please!”

            Bela looked him up and down, then dropped her arms to her sides. “You have until the clock chimes to announce the hour, Mr. Winchester.” She sighed. If they were to be married, then she might as well talk to him, even if he was… Mr. Winchester.

            “Fair enough, Lady Hall.” Mr. Winchester shrugged. They had about ten minutes, and he wanted to make the most of it. “I am just as unhappy with this as you are. You are a fine and stunning woman, but you are not the one that I love. I do not wish to marry you, but I cannot marry the one I would like to be with. Therefore, I propose our marriage be a… Pretense. You will appear as my wife, and I shall call you as such, but we could both be with our beloveds.” Mr. Winchester was speaking very quickly, and Bela believed him to be rather made, but his plan sounded just made enough to work.

            “Mr. Winchester, I believe we may have finally figured out how to make this work.” Bela replied with an impressed smile on her face. “I shall send for Mr. Talbot in the morning.” She did not ask about the one that Mr. Winchester desired, nor did she care. But, when she reached her room to write in her diary, she realized that she had no evidence that Mr. Talbot even fancied her, other than the kiss by the garden. Instead, she would have to apologize to her uncle and attempt to court the quasi-French duke in secret.

            The next morning, at the breakfast table, Mr. Crowley had a sour expression on his face and blood on his knuckles. Bela hadn’t seen Mr. Talbot leave the night before, and she wondered if her uncle’s hand was wounded by Mr. Talbot’s teeth. “Uncle, I have decided—“

            “I have decided to allow you to marry Mr. Talbot. It is more advantageous for me to have you united with his family than Mr. Winchester’s, Bela.” Bela was overcome by a mix of emotions, and she wasn’t quite sure what she should say. On one hand, she wanted to marry Mr. Talbot, but on the other, she promised she would help Mr. Winchester be with his beloved. Bela opened her mouth to speak, but closed it immediately. Part of her wondered if the smile on his face was that of him knowing about her original plan, but tried to suppress the thought. Her uncle would not eavesdrop on her.

            “I appreciate it, uncle.” Bela responded coolly, trying to keep from letting on that she suspected something wasn’t quite right. She sipped idly at her tea before getting up from the table prematurely. “Has Mr. Talbot been informed of the switch?”

            The grin on Mr. Crowley’s face was frightening and sinister, but he nodded. “Yes. He will be coming to dinner tonight. Mr. Winchester has also been informed.”

            “Letter for you, Lady Hall.” Joanna interjected, coming through the room with an envelope on a tray. “It’s from Mr. Winchester. I would read it immediately if I were you.” Bela thanked Joanna, looking at her with wary eyes, then took the envelope off of the tray before returning to her quarters, reading it as she walked.

            _Lady Hall, I regret to hear about your decision regarding the marriage. I thought we had come to an agreement, but I assure you, I will find someone else to fulfill your duties as my false-wife. I cannot say that this letter was not written resentfully, but I do wish you happiness on your quest for Love._

_Formerly yours,_

_Dean Winchester_

            Bela put the letter down on her bedside table and frowned. She had promised him, and broke her promise. However, her uncle seemed set in his decision to allow her to marry Balthazar. She sat on her bed, resting her head on her fists, elbows digging into the deep burgundy fabric of her dress, and coughed a few times. Her lungs were rather poor, due to tightlacing her corset for so many years, but she’d be fine, just like everyone else. Suddenly, there was a rapping on her door. “Come in!” She called, waiting for her visitor. However, she did not expect who appeared at her door, not at all.

            “Mr. Talbot. What a surprise!” Bela exclaimed, glancing over at the mirror quickly to make sure she looked presentable before standing up to meet him. “I’m so glad you arrived well.” There didn’t appear to be any significant marks on Mr. Talbot’s face, so Bela breathed a sigh of relief. Her uncle did not exert a violent streak onto her new intended. “Would you like me to get Joanna to take your coat?” Balthazar shook his head and sat down on one of the chairs, pulling a cigarette out of its case.

            “No, I’m not supposed to be up here. My carriage isn’t supposed to arrive until noon.” He replied while extracting a book of matches from his pocket. “You don’t mind me smoking, do you, Bela? And please, call me Balthazar.” Bela shook her head to let him know that it was alright for him to smoke, then nodded.

            “Yes, Mr. Talbot. Balthazar.” She blushed and looked down at her lap, a small smile curling onto her lips.

            “You are quite beautiful, Bela. I hope you’re aware of that. Those suitors looking for your hand are not just chasing your fortune.” Balthazar blew out some smoke in a long puff, then turned his head towards her. “But something seems on your mind. Could I,” He paused, tilting her chin up with a gloved finger, “help to rid you of that thought?” Bela looked into his eyes for a moment before kissing him again. His hand stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, while his other pulled her close and onto his lap. Bela knew her uncle was out for the morning, but there were plenty of servants around the house that could find them like this, with his lips pressing on her neck as soft as flower petals.

            “Balthazar…” She whispered into his ear when he placed a loving kiss on the hollow of her neck that made her feel like she had never felt prior to this moment. She  bunched up a bit of her skirt, and tilted her head back to expose more skin for his lips to touch, but nearly jumped when the duke’s hand slid its way up her thigh, over the fabric of her knickers. She knew her uncle wouldn’t approve, even if they were to marry, but at the moment, she didn’t seem to care very much.

            “Bela… Is this what you want?” Balthazar asked, looking Lady Hall right in the eye. Her lip quivered for a second, but she nodded. Yes. She wanted Balthazar. This, she decided, was what love was like.


End file.
